


Meet the Neighbors

by fjord (orphan_account)



Series: the scientist [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alexei & looney tunes, Everyone lives/ nobody dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fjord
Summary: Meeting Murray was entirely what you expected and also very much not so. It’s fitting if that didn’t make sense because neither did that encounter.Sequel to Cereal.
Relationships: Alexei (Stranger Things)/Reader
Series: the scientist [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556695
Kudos: 31





	Meet the Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around my computer for awhile. Thank y'all for the kindness on the first part. Enjoy!

If Alexei recounted this moment to you in a light that you were hesitant, you would call him on his bullshit. You, in fact, were quite trusting of the Russian former scientist who had begun to camp out on your couch (and more recently, your bed— but that was another matter) and all of his strange, Russian affiliates, thank you very much.

It’s just, you _were_ entitled to a little reservation since, as Alexei had put it, “this man is _brilliant,_ the craziest person you will ever meet— even more than you for taking me in!” Even though his broken English (you’d even reverted to flipping through the worn English-Russian dictionary), Alexei insisted through cackling laughter that he had indeed meant the word “crazy”. 

So yes, you were a bit hesitant.

It’d actually taken a while to track down this so-called conspiracy theorist. You’d supposed it had something to do with the whole paranoia aspect of the crazy gig. The two of you had just found the man’s address a week ago, with the help from a slightly haggard chief of police.

Now that you thought on it, the chief had a pretty hilarious reaction to Alexei as well (thankfully not one of handcuffs again).

Alexei had confidently waltzed you to the police station, strolling past the receptionist (were those not a thing in the USSR?). He had waved cheerfully in the unnaturally pale face of Chief Hopper.

“ _S_ _mirnoff?_ ” He nearly choked on his coffee. His eyebrows seemed to debate between flying into his hairline or scrunching downward in a suspicious squint. “I— I _saw_ you . . .”

Your amused smile had faded slightly as the familiar anxiety settled back. You had a suspicion what the chief was talking about (you still woke up some nights in a cold sweat, reminding yourself that, no, your hands weren’t wet and the form beside you slept in peaceful slumber).

Alexei had merely grinned, a little more gently. Even he was smart enough not to blatantly start babbling Russian in a monitored police station. 

Hopper’s eyes watered and roughly pulled the slightly shorter man in for a hug. You bit back the leftover bitterness from Alexei’s rough handling at the 7-11, but you supposed there must have been a reason. Clearly, there were no hard feelings between the two.

But then came the hard part. Hopper’s face had scrunched up guiltily as you explained Alexei’s insistence on finding this “Murray”.

He scratched at his head awkwardly, “ _e_ _rm_ , sorry about that. We may have compromised his location. I don’t know where he lives anymore. I’m sure he still lives in the area— the most action he’s seen in ages— but exactly _where_. That’s a whole nother problem.”

You’d seen the cheerful optimism in Alexei’s eyes upon seeing his friend again fade as he picked up on Hopper’s subdued tone and your tension. You tried to shoot an encouraging smile to him, but it fell flat. How were you going to explain this to him?

The answer was with many imprecise word-for-word translations written down, using Alexei’s confused expressions as an accuracy judgment.

He’d spent the next few weeks in a melancholic cartoon-binge (not all that different from his regular routine, but sadder), with Hopper’s promise of “I’ll find him for you guys, don’t worry” ringing in your ears. You’d tried to console Alexei, simultaneously trying to bite down the twinge of jealousy in the ugly corner of your mind. Just how special was this man for your . . . partner (boyfriend sounded too _juvenile_ ) so despondent? 

You squeezed Alexei’s hand, bringing yourself back to the present. He almost seemed to be shaking from excitement.

Well, damn if you weren’t surprised that the Hawkins chief of police actually followed through on his promises.

You gently brought your clasped hands upward and kissed his knuckles. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, but he seemed to settle, beaming down at you. 

“ _V_ _perod_ ?” You offered. _Onward_. 

He nodded and pressed the doorbell. A harsh buzzing noise rang and you tried to hide your flinch (an attempt that was defeated by the fact you instinctively squeezed Alexei’s hand).

The bell had only screeched for two seconds when a sound thudded inside and the door slammed open. A bedraggled man with wild curled hair and wiry glasses completely glanced over you. His eyes seemed to tear up.

“Alexei—” His chest did a strange, wheezing sound. He glanced around suspiciously and quickly hustled the two of you inside. As soon as the door was shut, he began a steady stream of Russian with increased fervor. You picked up a few “ublyudok”s at the beginning, _bastard_ , but tuned out once you realized this conversation went far beyond your second-grade level Russian. You felt a bit embarrassed simply standing between the two, quite the duck out of water.

Even though Alexei spent much of the exchange being yelled at, you couldn’t imagine the sheer relief at being able to unadulteratedly _understand_ what people were saying.

The man, definitely Murray from Alexei’s descriptions, finally petered off, face a bit red from exertion. Alexei fidgeted abashedly. You could have understood his next words by tone.

“Prostite.” _Sorry_.

Murray seemed to recollect himself with a deep breath and nodded. You pretended you didn’t see that the adjustment of his glasses was a cover for rubbing his eyes.

He made one final quip to Alexei in Russian, who nodded solemnly. An armistice had been made then.

Murray finally turned, holding out his hand in greeting. “Apologies for that. Murray Bauman. Welcome to my humble, _new_ shack.” He sent an admonishing side-eye toward Alexei. “Jim, Joyce, and Alexei really just fucked up my old one.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t passive-aggressive.

You introduced yourself as you took his hand in a friendly shake. 

Murray glanced you over more scrutinizingly. “ _Hmm._ Well, at least I don’t have to tell you two to get to fucking.”

You froze up and also nearly choked. “I’m _sorry_?”

“Sorry, too direct? I just meant that you two have been . . . _proactive_. I’m glad he gives you a good time,” Murray said. He gave what, you assumed, he thought was an amicable smile. You had half the mind to slap him in the face but you were too busy turning away your burning face.

You eyed Alexei, who was distracted by the television set on further in Murray’s house. Did he . . . ? You _swore_ he’d only said five words. _Damn Russian_. He was sleeping on the couch when you two got back to your house.

Murray seemed unaware of the tense silence and strolled further into his house, “well, let’s not dally. Please, come into my humble abode. We have vodka.”

You honestly contemplated the later invitation. You walked forward and Alexei finally looked up at the sound of your footsteps. He smiled at some scene in the cartoon playing but it sobered at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You smiled weakly at his heavy accent— he seemed to sense your discomfort from earlier and was trying to accommodate you. You squeezed his hand.

“ _Normalno_.” You said.

He nodded and drew you into a warm hug. “Good.”

Surrounded by his warm, cinnamony scent, you felt yourself relax. His heart steadily thumped in your ear and you remembered the relief when he was finally released from the hospital. How could you have ever thought that he would say such a torrid thing to Murray? (Though, you supposed you’d never really discussed confidentiality and all that since you’d generally assumed there was no one he _could_ tell).

After a moment tangled together though, you noticed he seemed to be tense. You paused and looked up. His head was twisted uncomfortably. Was he . . . ?

He intently watched the TV out of the corner of his eye whilst not displacing you. There was almost a look of longing in his eyes, but he held himself. How tooth-rottingly sweet and utterly ridiculous. 

An ugly laugh exploded from your chest and you broke out of the hug to double over. “ _Alexei_ ,” you wheezed through choked laughter. Jesus, it wasn’t _your_ old friend that thought you were dead that you were seeing. He didn’t need to hen over you like a neglected houseplant.

You guided him to the couch in front of the TV and promptly plopped yourself down. “I’m _fine_. I promise.” He joined you, weight settling comfortingly beside you. Alexei stared at you intensely and for a moment, you almost felt burned by his dark eyes.

“Good?”

“Good, you silly man,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

A sardonic voice broke in. “ _Wow_ , okay even though I support this, _three inches_ apart on the sofa when I’m in visible distance.” 

If anything, you curled closer to Alexei to hide your jolt of surprise and mortified expression. How did you not hear him? Your face burned and you felt Alexei’s arm settle around your shoulders.

You felt more than heard Alexei ask something in Russian.

Murray responded in turn. He then repeated it in English for your benefit. “Alexei says that he thought I’d be more amenable to this as compared to the bathroom. Or the front porch.” Murray’s brow furrowed, “you two really have at it, huh?”

Your soul proceeded to depart your body, a husk despairingly curled against Alexei’s silently shaking form. You looked up at him, wounded. His face was red, utterly overcome with laughter. So much for your innocent Russian scientist significant other having a _shred_ of decency. Murray eyed you in your periphery. 

Alexei totally fucking told him.

“You bastard! An utter _ublyudok_!” you scowled, trying to maintain your composure as Alexei’s curls brushed in your face, his lanky form collapsing onto itself in a black hole of glee at your misery.

**Author's Note:**

> \- The thud you hear is Murray tossing aside his shotgun (still just as trusting as always)  
> \- Note that I write the Russian in the Roman alphabet and not Cyrillic because I assume that the audience is also not-Russian speaking and thereby the symbols merely detract from legibility (might just be my own opinion— stylistically, I like seeing the Cyrillic alphabet more, but learning the words is easier when I have a semblance of pronunciation)  
> \- Normalno: fine


End file.
